Survival.
"Survivors aren't always the strongest; sometimes they're the smartest, but more often simply the luckiest." - Carrie Ryan.
Megaera Cassian, District Four Female.
"The careers are stupid, each and every one of them."
"The careers are a lifeline, the only way you stand a chance of making it out of the Arena alive."
My lips peel back in a sneer at Mags, who only stares at me, glancing for something. We're alone, Matteo and Wyatt together in his room doing whatever it is those two do together. The brief, vulgar thought sends my body racking with silent giggles which stirs Mags from her chair. The bitch believes she sees everything in me, that she knows everything.
Just because she won, it doesn't mean she can order me around and tell me what is or isn't best for my chances of survival.
"You think one of them actually stands a chance, that they can actually beat me?" I guffaw, shell-shocked. I thought mentors were supposed to believe in their tributes, even the littlest girl is supposed to have guidance and hope from these victors. And I'm no little girl.
Mags raises an eyebrow and leans in her chair towards me. I scuffle backwards just an inch away from her and mirror her expression. "It's not a matter of who can or can't beat you, it's a matter of you sticking with an alliance that can assist you or leaving them and having five trained tributes pining for your blood."
"Four, there are four other careers." Lochlan, he'll pay. I don't take insults to what I stand for so kindly, maybe the others are moronic pretenders, but they still stick to what it is their District believe in. Lochlan will die and I'll ensure it's not a pretty death.
"Lucinda told me about you, she likes to gossip about first impressions and what each tribute give off." My advisor runs a hand through her hair and shifts her posture so she's back to relaxing against the table edge. Through the walls I hear muffled whispers, two voices deep in conversation. Matteo's a cunning fellow, false as the act I played Lucinda, but cunning. Calliope too, Saskia's brain is scrambled if she truly believes the blonde bimbo is really as sluttish as her predecessors. I've dealt with girls like her, I've fought girls like her and bested them. Beauty results in all manner of masks, some of them more convincing than others. I'd like to believe mine is secured within the alliance, that they honestly are foolish enough to remain convinced I am their friend.
The notion makes me scoff, something Mags frowns at.
"And what was her first impression of me?"
Mags lets out a short, bitter laugh. A laugh that doesn't sit well with my stomach, a laugh I'd usually wipe off. "Bubbly, kind, cheerful, a bit of a ditz but with enough arrogance to convince others she knows what she's doing. All I see is a vindictive young woman with the arrogance Lucinda so rightfully saw true."
"It's not arrogance if you know what you're doing."
"Arrogance and confidence lie on the same thread, there's little difference between the two but the difference means a lot to someone people. Arrogance kills careers, it's their biggest weakness."
My stomach churns, for a moment anger pulsates against my inner chest and I clench my fingers round the bottom of the chair. I don't like being talked down to, I do not, especially by women such as Mags.
"You seem to think you know a lot, someone like you who didn't even win a Games when there was such a thing as proper training."
My tone of voice rises with the fireworks building up inside my body. Matteo and Wyatt are talking at full volume now, something that doesn't require whispers is no doubt trivial and unimportant. Mags almost jumps up from the chair, I see the twitch, sense the tension budding and pushing in that frail head of hers. But she composes herself, like I've trained myself most of the time to do when it was required of me. Her chest falls to a steady pace and Mags laughs again, loudly.
"You're right, the only people who trained were those smart enough to not let the slim chances of their name being reaped get to their heads." Mags picks up a butter knife, resting on her plate between two half eaten bread rolls. Easing slowly, the anger leaves me and I only watch curiously as she twirls the blade against the skin of her index fingers, musing over something.
"When my name was called, I didn't think I could do it. No one in my position would because there wasn't such a thing as careers yet. All twenty-four of us, from the thinnest in Twelve to the blonde-haired impossible kids from One were all fucked." I watch the silver catch the light, a thin sliver of black cast against the red rose wallpaper. Mags stares at nothing but the weapon, dull side pointed down and sharp edge towards her.
"We fought when the bloodbath started, my alliance was nothing more than me and a red-head from District Eight. She died, axe cleaved her from shoulder to stomach. And I ran. All I did was run. But I killed, I took lives when it was necessary because I had to."
"So there weren't careers and you still won. No such thing as a lifeline which is one of your arguments for saying I stick by them."
It's not that I will jump at the chance to kill them when the gong goes off, I just won't refrain from stabbing anyone in the back. I don't care for any of them, no matter my smiles and flirting with Matteo's stupid hip.
"I won without careers, yes. But I won also because I didn't believe I would win, there was hope over the arrogance that your kind breed amongst each other."
The knife leaves her fingertips in a clear, crisp whistle. I watch, shocked, as it plummets into a red petal curled around a thin wisp of a branch. The wallpaper peels and flaps down, like a little flower in the breeze.
A smile replaces the emptiness of her face and Mags finally gazes back up at me.
"I trained, every morning and every night because I didn't want to die. And when I was reaped, I fought and kept my life over twenty-three others. It's harder now because other tributes train, other tributes are born and bred as killers and if you stupidly let yourself believe you stand a chance because of who you are and what you've done..." she trails off and points at the knife, rose petal dangling down.
"Then you'll be the flower, and the knife will belong to your killer. Because you let your guard down and they used that against you."
"Arrogance kills..." The words feel foreign on my tongue, and when they leave a heavy anchor drops to my stomach.
Mags nods and stands up from her chair, her fingers delicately land on my shoulder and she bends down to reach my eye level.
"You'll win because you know how to kill, but you know how to hold back and keep your emotions under control." A door opens, gentle footfalls echo down the corridor and Mags falls back into her chair. "You'll win because you're confident, not because you're arrogant."
Kitty Lynch, District Twelve Female.
Applause bursts from behind me the second my spear stops vibrating in the target, the point protruding from the fourth ring. It's not my best, but not my worst, satisfactory considering I only just picked up a spear two days ago. The clapping recedes and I turn brightly to face the pair of them, the trainer stepping backwards to gather up the weapon.
Raelyn from Ten, ecstatic as ever, stands with her arm linked to the girl from Three: Ada or something. Neither of them make a move and neither do I, but Raelyn continues to grin from ear to ear at me and stare into my eyes. Ada's much more awkward but she's there all the same and attempts to copy her ally.
What do they want? I've seen them wandering about the place, complete polar opposites. One as light as the burning sun and one as dour as a rainy day. But they seem close, nevertheless. I've been observing everyone from every station I've occupied: from the careers to the loners from Eleven, all of them have something I could use, or benefit from. I don't pretend to know what I'm doing, none of us here who haven't trained really do, but it's how we use our limited experience and the time we have that counts towards our survival.
If I have to hurt someone, then I will. Raelyn though, from what I've gathered, she doesn't understand this idea. The girl she clutches to is the most realistic thing she's going to encounter until death slaps her in the face. I know people like Raelyn, in fact in a sense I am like Raelyn. It doesn't make anything easier though.
"Did you want something?" I answer as kindly as I can, mustering up a smile close to replicating her own – if that's possible. Raelyn finally closes the gap at my words and Ada reluctantly follows after her like a pet. I eye her up for a brief second then turn back to who I'm gathering is the leader of this alliance. The girl who smiles leading the girl who frowns, I wonder how long it will last.
"You're very good with spears Kitty," Raelyn says, pointing at the many holes spread across the painted rings, each one a mark of my spear, none of them close to the centre. "I couldn't do that even if I tried and tried."
"No one knows what they can do unless they at least try." Raelyn laughs at this and even Ada's lips curl up. Maybe these two aren't the best types of people to be around, but they're still people. Back in Twelve people enjoyed my company whilst it was still company to be enjoyed, then when it went sour I was cast aside and mocked because... well, because I did what I did. Raelyn and Ada are from different Districts, places that don't know my name or what I do. Maybe it will work on them, for as long as it has to. It won't matter in the long run either way, both will be dead soon enough. Maybe I'll be dead with them.
"Have you trained with weapons before?"
The correct answer almost bursts from my throat, but after years of telling little white lies, I manage to hold it back and giggle at the pair of them. A career wouldn't buy it, nor anyone with a good sized brain inside their head. But Raelyn asked the question, she's dim, she won't work it out.
"I've trained for years just in case I was reaped, hopefully it will pay off now that I'm here."
The careers pass behind Raelyn and Ada and I feel a dull sort of pounding inside my chest, the niggling of fear eating away at me. They are the true competitors, the real monsters here. I'm no match for them, neither are the two girls standing before me.
Maybe lying will actually help me in a way, maybe I can believe myself if I tell it to others long enough. A little hope goes a long way.
Raelyn's mouth and eyes open in awe, like I'm some kind of spectacle. It's hard not to feel a tiny bit of encouragement at that, even Ada's skeptical expression doesn't extinguish it. I know people like Ada and they don't speak up against people like Raelyn. They want to fit in. She's a smart girl but a quiet girl, she'll keep her tongue still.
"I mean I can help you, but it's impossible to learn what I've been doing for years in the space of a few hours."
Raelyn hops up at that, releasing Ada's arm. "Oh please please please, at least give it a go. I'd love to know how to hold one. They look so sharp."
I pull out another spear from the rack by my side, the metal clinking together and jangling around. They aren't toys, not rattles for a baby to clutch. But the way Raelyn looks at them, it's as if an infant is begging for their mother to hand them over a teddy bear. It's odd.
"They are sharp, it's a good thing I know how to use them then isn't it?" I smirk and Raelyn nods eagerly. Ada's eyesight shifts up to mine and we exchange a look that lasts only half a second, her mouth narrows and she shakes her head breaking it completely. I know what she's thinking.
Whatever, she can think what she likes.
"Would you like to join Ada and I? We'd love to have you!"
Ada's mouth opens at that, finger raising suddenly. Raelyn shares a sideways glance with her and Ada gives in almost instantly afterwards, her hand meeting her hip. The moment she looks back over at me, I nod and pass her the spear, picking up my own and gathering another for Ada to hold onto.
"I'd love to join you, we'll be a great team!"
My own spear connects with the third ring after I guide them through it. A minute later, my allies completely miss the target completely. Hope is both blossoming in my chest, and fading away. Raelyn likes me because I'm telling her what she wants to hear, Ada will remain silent and put up with me because she likes Raelyn and doesn't want to upset her. And in a sense, I like the pair of them. They don't stand a chance, it's impossible for them to hold their own if they can't even hit the target.
But we're still allies, loyalty is still important. Just how long it lasts though, I'm not sure. I won't be afraid to go when it does, because I can throw a spear and they can't. Plus I plan to win, and for me to win, they have to die.
Tyndall Martinez, District Three Male.
The trainer continues to hum a soft tune close to where I sit, cross-legged on the mat. With one book lopsided next to me and another perched awkwardly on my knee, I scan my fingers down the page of the open one. In the background somewhere amongst the weapons and walking tributes, there's a gentle ticking of a clock as the text blurs into a mess of black writing.
"You okay love?" I blink upwards at the tinkling of her voice and smile meekly, nodding.
"Probably shouldn't read so much, my head's starting to hurt." I rub my temple and fold the book close, standing up and stretching my arms out. The other books fall over in a heap but before I can bend down to sort it out, the trainer's on her knees rummaging through them.
Apologetically, I mumble something and begin to wander off. Behind my eyes I can still feel the imprint of black whizzing around my brain, the smart side sorting through it all. I'm glad for books, they're a good past time and if you know where to look and how to look, what you find on a page can be a real benefit. It's what I've spent most my time doing, reading about plants before meandering off to the corresponding stations, reading about how to handle a spear before throwing one at a target.
There's only so much embarrassment I can take, if on some level I know what I'm doing, at least I don't look so incompetent in front of other people.
The problem is, people seem to be the one thing I've neglected. The only thing I haven't spent my time doing: putting together an alliance.
"Would you like to cram some extra archery in?" A trainer shoots up to me almost too eagerly, gripping onto my wrist. He's stout, round-bellied and smells like disinfectant. I don't want to be rude, but no matter how much I read or learn, there's something too awkward about twiddling my fingers round a string and positioning an arrow correctly.
I politely shake my head and apologise, pretending not to see his brow-beaten expression. There are plenty of other stations I could visit, but each time my eyes flit to the moving clock, time seems to be slipping away faster and faster. I swear we only came down here an hour or so ago, and now it's the third final day of training and tomorrow we have to impress people who want us dead.
I've never been good at first impressions, only because I try too hard to say and do the right thing. I pass the boys from Seven and Twelve chatting amiably together but I carry on.
I need an alliance, it's not a matter of want, I need one. That's what I have to do now, not train more or cram in too much so my brain malfunctions and I simply keel over tomorrow.
An alliance, that's what I need to focus on.
I halt to take a scan of the room. A mental roster flickers into existence in my head and I look over each tribute in turn, ticking them off and ruling them out because most people are already in some sort of alliance. The girl from Eight sits by herself but when she looks up, I can tell she'll bite the nearest head off if they put a wrong word in.
Maybe a group already formed? The trio from Five, Eight and Ten look promising, but then the boy from Eight falls over in a fit of giggles and I cross him out too. Theatricality is interesting, funny and all. But what can a laugh do when a knife is thrown your way? As sad as it is, they're not going to last very long.
At the very end, almost giving up, I see them. Lochlan, the career who isn't a career muttering quietly with the girl from Six. She looks forced, almost as if she's pushing herself too far into something she's uncomfortable with. But when she lunges at the dummy, hatchet in hand, the attack is brutal but elegant at the same time. Lochlan must have taught her, there's no way a girl from Six knows such aggression.
Will they even want me? A tribute from District Two who seems both angry and happy combined, and a girl who I can tell is only with him because she doesn't want to be alone. Maybe we can relate over that, because I need someone, I don't want to die alone. I don't deal with loneliness very well.
I try to play it subtle, footsteps light and feathery against the floor. It doesn't work, not for a minute. Lochlan pokes the girl from Six in the shoulder and they both turn in unison towards me. A hiccup forces its way up my throat and I tremble slightly under my training uniform, awkward and scared all jumbled up into one.
The first word that leaves my lips is inaudible, barely a squeak. Lochlan smirks and I quickly clear my throat, not wanting to humiliate myself further. Their eyes burn through my sockets, judging me almost, searching for something. Have I made the right choice?
"Hi," I mumble finally, throat sore. Neither say anything, together they only scrutinize me further. I clear my throat again and rub the back of my neck with my right hand, skin all bumpy and sweaty.
"I saw from over there," I point quickly back to where I was, something I doubt they care about, "I saw you use that hatchet to tear up the dummy. Could you maybe teach me how to do that? I'm not very good with weapons, never used one before."
The pair exchange a look, a silent conversation going between their eyes. When Lochlan smiles and nods his head, I manage to release a pent-up breath and grin back at him.
"I'm Lochlan, this is Tatum. There's not really much to it when you know what you're doing. I didn't train at any sort of academy, but when you live in Two it's hard not to pick up something."
I wonder why he isn't a career? Why he's not with those monsters over by the swords? That's a question for another day though, I don't want to overstep.
"Hi Tatum," I beam at her. The corner of her mouth twitches and she brings her hatchet upwards, little tufts of cotton still poking from the silver. Soon enough, my stance is acceptable, grip round the handle enough to warrant a clap on the back from Lochlan.
I'm not perfect, never will be. But it's a start, a better start than I could have hoped for. The reason I stepped up though hasn't been discussed, because I'm too scared to discuss it.
But it's Lochlan who says it first, after twenty or so minutes of dummies tearing apart and falling in clumps of white.
"Would you like to join us Tyndall?"
The yes couldn't be said any faster, and when I say it, I finally feel like I stand a chance.
Tirzah Ovata, District Seven Female.
The rafters provide comfort, but above all, they give me a place to hide away. It's what I want, what I need. Down below they train and train, they scurry like the Capitol wants them to in a vain attempt to put together a semblance of hope that they have a chance.
There's no point for me, what can I learn in three days that can hope to best a career? If they swing at me with their muscles, cold faces and a blade, I'm dead. If not, then I'm alive. But it won't last forever. Hiding is all I'm good for, and as long as there's a place to hide they can't catch me.
I scurry along the second horizontal plank of wood and swing my legs to the next. This training facility was designed to keep the main floors above ground as safe and secure as possible, meaning a tough infrastructure that's almost too good to be true. The ceiling is far from the floor, a little leg poking down won't be seen unless someone is squinting, and even then the light is too blinding.
My legs continue to carry me along the surface and then I base my back against a beam raising up, holding some more in place. Releasing a sigh, I sink backwards and let my head fall and clunk gently against the hardwood. The trainers haven't stopped me, and if they've seen me, they've pretended otherwise. What's a little girl from Seven going to do anyway? All I have is my ability to climb and stay away. The Gamemakers won't enjoy me though, what I can actually do. What's a girl from Seven avoiding the tributes compared to a bloody battle between careers and non-careers? I know what they seek, what they want, and I refuse to give it to them.
Down below the air manages to carry the sounds of swords dicing dummies apart and the claps of the careers. Great, the one place I decide to camp out for the day. The roster is rarely ever ticked except at the beginning and end of training and I'm always there on time, they don't think to check. But I've done my best to avoid other tributes on the off chance they can point me out, and a pack of five vicious careers lingering around their lovely little blades and thirsty for innocent blood, is the last place I want to be.
Or maybe... maybe it's the best.
I don't smile, I'm beyond that. But something inside my mind tells me to keep as quiet and still as possible... and listen. Listen as best I can from my high position. The tall structure is a blessing for those who can use it, the echo is perfect. I pick out the girl from Four speaking loudly like she wants to be heard, her laughs are grating but I push through that and focus on the conversation she's having, anything to help me.
"-can't let them go, if we let them go we lose our support from the Capitol." Murmurs of agreement follow, she must be talking about the bloodbath.
"I agree, we're not exactly going to kill them all but if we get a good amount then the Capitol will still see us in the same light, they might even let us relax before having to hunt others down." Her District partner speaks loudly and quickly. It's hard to pick apart each individual word but what he says is slightly different to what I expected from a monster like him. He speaks of death surely, but I thought hunting was something they were the most enthusiastic about. I thought they'd do their best to keep the blood flowing as best they could.
"Matteo you suggested we don't overlook anyone. I wasn't too fussed about that, no one here looks promising, but we went with it anyway. Has anyone got anything to report?" A moment of silence hangs between them all and for a brief moment I think I might have lost them, or they've moved to whispering. I scoot over quietly and edge as low as I can without my leg making a scuffle and possibly toppling to a horrific injury. That would be a good way to start the Games.
Finally I hear the harsh but giddy voice of the girl from Two. "As far as I can tell, there's no one here who poses a threat. In fact, not a single one are worth our thoughts."
Someone scoffs, someone laughs and another sighs. These careers are fascinating, though I detest them all, they're different. The girls are harsh, crude and arrogant. The boys much more gentle than I expected from people in their position.
"That's your arrogance speaking Saskia, it's foolish to push away people who could potentially-"
"-seriously, if I was to die – which I'm not – I see it being at the hand of one of you, not these farmers and factory workers."
I grit my teeth at that. Despite my parent's profession and their overbearing control on my time spent with other people, they're still family and still my District. How... dare they. I don't care for anyone below these rafters, the others who didn't choose to be here are in a place I am to, and as tragic as that may be, I refuse to put myself with any of them. But, as little chance as they have, they're still human beings. With families like these monsters, with friends and hopes and dreams and a generation after them that will forget who they were like they will the other hundred kids who will die in the name of this Game.
My knuckles drain of colour from the grip on the beam and I shake my head, wiping my mind of all that. I can't let them get to me. The only time I've ever been angry is at my parents and when I was reaped, and I learnt to control myself. A lack of control leads to danger, and danger leads to bad things happening.
"Boy from Nine, his attitude is touching but he seems like he can handle himself. Then there's Lochlan-" The girls from Two and Four growl at that, together. They don't like him for ditching them.
"I don't care how you feel about him, he's still from District Two and may have some training. We can't rule him out, or his alliance."
They mention a few other names, but not a single mention of me, or even Graeden. We're nothing to them, mere numbers on a chart that come before a victory they believe is in their future. Bugs to squash. They move on after another ten minutes of mocking the lives of innocent children and I get to relax in peace, finally.
I don't pretend to be a selfless teenage girl, no one is truly selfless. But these... people, they show me the difference between what it means to be human and a machine crafted for killing. Up until my death, I refuse to let myself fall into the latter, there has to be a way of not letting the Games ruin me. There just has to be, otherwise we might as well all kill ourselves here.
Atarah Neve, District Nine Female.
Elijah grips on tightly, my left hand to his right. The calluses rooted in his palm bump against my own scars, making it slightly more uncomfortable than it ought to be. Together we move swiftly towards the girl from Eight messing about with a small blade between her fingers, muttering to herself. Elijah wants her to join us, and I don't want to disappoint Elijah. I'll do what he wants because he's kind to me, he makes me feel happy about myself. He's a friend.
"Hello there," he calls out brightly, a smile etched deep into his face. Whenever I look it's there, a charm no one else here has, a friendliness I've only encountered in a rare few. If he ever feels sad I've never seen it, or he's hidden it behind something and locked it tight from view.
The girl from Eight looks up with a twisted look in her eyes, her lips narrow and she clenches her fingers round the knife handle. For a moment, my heart thuds harder behind my ribcage at the sight of the blade, what it can do. Elijah's tuned himself to my discomfort and squeezes my palm gently. I'm not a coward, I'm just... worried. The only blades I've been around were used to help people, not hurt them.
We cut grain, not flesh.
"Can I help you?" Her voice takes a tone I don't like, it matches her scowl. She's lithe and dainty, like a little flower. If she wasn't so angry, maybe I could see us getting along. Why does Elijah want her? What does she have that makes her important?
Another movement behind my chest and I clench my eyes shut for a moment. The two continue to talk whilst I feel my eye twitch and the fingers on my other hand moisten with sweat from my palm. If Elijah sees good in her, then she is good. And if Elijah wants her to join us, then she joins us. Whatever my thoughts are, they're misjudged, pointless. I see what's on the outside, I can't judge someone based on how they look. What's right about that?
"-want me?" I tune back into the conversation and catch a breech in the distance between us, her eyes now widened with shock. I guess she hasn't had many offers.
"Of course, you caught my eye from the Chariot."
Her lips curl into a snarl and Elijah falters for a moment, stuttering over himself. "N-n-no, not because of the dress. I just... liked you, your attitude. It's different."
He's blushing and I can't help but giggle at that. All their attention snaps to me and I find the light laughter fading and turning into a warmth creeping up my face. The way she looks at me isn't welcoming, but I don't falter, I won't.
"Elijah didn't mean that. You just have a spirit not many others have, a nice kind of spirit." I do what I can to ease her, relinquish her of whatever it is that stops her from opening up just a little. In my experience it's easier to be happy than it is to be angry and it engages other people. No one wants to be friends with someone who sees the bad and reflects this in their behaviour, maybe I've worked out why Elijah wants Kennedy as our ally, maybe it's to make her happy too.
"We're not the strongest team but we're not dishonest, we'll look out for one another until..." I trail off and for a moment avert eye contact. In my peripheral vision I see Elijah nod slowly, smile lower but still painted clear. Kennedy's shoulders ease just a little and she steps forwards. Her knife drops to the ground with a clatter that attracts the unwanted attention of a trainer. She scowls and mumbles something but doesn't step towards us to intrude. Brokering of an alliance is something they've probably been informed not to interrupt no matter what we're doing. Unless it's fighting, fighting isn't permitted.
"I'm not sure, I'm not the greatest, with people, I mean. I'm not that type of person. I can be pretty mean." A loud cheer somewhere pierces my ears and I flinch, Kennedy jumping slightly in the air. There are a mixture of people here, some loud, some quiet. Some kind, some hostile. All types of people varying in the level of attention they receive.
I'd like to think we're somewhere in the middle, on the radar of the sponsors, but swept under the carpet in the eyes of the careers. Elijah's done well to be positive but not like the girl from Ten who drags around her allies like a giddy little pup, gaining the eyesight of every tribute in the room and the Peacekeepers patrolling the sidelines. We're content to be forgotten by the other tributes, as am I. I've never done what I did so people would know my name. I did it because... because it was just, and true. Elijah knows that, that's why he likes me. Kennedy, where does she fit in?
"You don't look mean to me," Elijah crosses his arms and my hand falls to my hip. For a moment his fingers are still there, ghostly but still there. Then the feeling subsides and I stare at Kennedy whose still debating, weighing up her options.
"I can be mean, I've been told I can be mean. But I can be kind, my dad always told me that I could be. He didn't say that when he said goodbye though."
She's just a little girl Atarah, a little girl in a big world swallowed whole by the pressures of being a tribute. How can there be any bad thoughts towards such a person? Maybe she's mean and rigid and stern, but then she looks up and her eyes are wide and watery.
I help people, I don't throw them away.
"Please join our alliance Kennedy, we'd like you to." Elijah, Kennedy and I. There's no hierarchy like the careers, no ulterior motive, no future gain within the idea of us coming together. But there's friendship and trust. Two things Elijah and I hold dear, and maybe Kennedy can too.
She bites her lip and runs the back of her hand across her nose. In a flash, she looks up and her features twist back, away from vulnerability, back to being distant. But there's a lightness in those eyes, a gentle touch I see in Elijah's.
"I'd like that too," she whispers, bending down to pick up her knife. Elijah, Kennedy and I. We're friends... Kennedy is my friend.
Lochlan Clarington, District Two Male.
Saskia and Faustine shoot upwards, the elevator disappearing in a single flash. I watch the glass figures flash on and off as the chute takes them to the roof. Once they're finally there, truly away from me, I turn back to Tarquin and settle round the dining table.
He keeps one eye on me suspiciously, whilst impossibly he manages to read the same newspaper he's been invested in this entire trip. His eye is cold, glossy like glass but dark and misty as if the night sky is locked away inside that head of his. It unsettles me, leaves my stomach somersaulting and my dinner squirming. I manage to bite that all back and slump backwards into my chair cushion.
"So," I stretch my arms and clap my hands together, raising my eyebrows in his direction. "Got any advice for me, Mastermind." I sense his frustration at the nickname, but he doesn't rise to the bait. A feature I honestly admire in him and see absent in most of my fellow tributes, a feature I wish most people had so I could stop doing it. They might see me grinning and laughing at their annoyance, and whilst it's fun, it's tiring to do the same old show over and over. If only the world were smarter, it wouldn't require such fuss over who's got a quicker temper.
"Nothing, not one teeny tiny little bit of advice for your tribute?" My thumb and index squeeze closer, a gap between the two. Again, he makes no move at any gesture or word. If it wasn't for his brain, I'd find him wholly and unutterably boring. Boring can be good, but boring is boring and there's only so much of a dull person I can withstand.
Tatum, she's a girl I'm still attempting to work out. She asked to join me when I made no such show that I even wanted an alliance. She sought me out of her own desires and then when we got to talking, it was as if she wanted to walk off and leave me alone forever. Then along came Tyndall, awkward but charming in his own bizarre way. I asked him to join me because like Tatum, they didn't judge me for my home.
I'm from Two, a career district. I'm the career who isn't a career. The others either look at me with hatred or fear, the other careers thirsty for my blood no doubt. If I was a nicer person, a valiant selfless young man, I'd have declined both Tatum and Tyndall because being with me paints a target on both their backs.
But I'm an honest person, and I'm honest about not being good. I want company, in fact maybe I need it. A desire that burns inside of me and when two young people out of everyone were willing to talk, I knew what I had to do. I just hope they don't die because of me, not so quickly at least. I'm not sure my conscious can hold that forever.
"Faustine calls you Mastermind doesn't she? I don't really see much mind at all, just a guy who doesn't stop reading those damn newspapers."
My voice remains constant and level, but Tarquin does something. A tiny flinch of his fingers and a crease bends the topside of the tabloid. The sheet crumples under the pressure and he pays all attention on me, those stormy eyes trained to my own.
Finally, we're getting somewhere.
"She calls me Mastermind because I deal with books and academia."
"Thrilling stuff," I whirl my fingers around, chuckling lowly at the way his eyes only seem to narrow further. If they got any smaller, they'd shrink into his thick skull. I suppose that mind of his is what makes it thick, they do say he's the brainiest of the careers, a match for District Three. I do hate it when people don't live up to their reputations.
"I have a question for you Lochlan."
That grabs my interest. I lean forwards and rest my chin on my knuckles. "Go on."
"I'll tell it to you true and give you the advice you require, if you answer what I want from you. No lying and I'll help you."
I snort. "I thought helping us was part of your job description, why am I having to make a deal to get what I rightfully should have?"
"Because I can shut up and never talk to you again if I wanted. What do you say?"
"Do I really have a choice?"
The newspaper drops from his fingers and crumples in a black and white heap next the cutlery. I sense the nighttime creeping from the windows, now that the Capitol is awakening to their nightlife lifestyle, the noise will be unbearable. But I tune into Tarquin and Tarquin alone, for the first time I force back any words and listen, only listen.
"I've never seen, from any career District since the idea of volunteering became so popular, a tribute reaped simply because they believe they weren't liked well enough. No one, not the most simple-minded of potential volunteers, would give up their moment in the spotlight just to spite someone like you. My question is, why did no one volunteer for you, and I want the truth?"
My heartbeat quickens in the ensuing silence. Tarquin glares at me but raises no noise, it's like he doesn't even breath.
I rake my brain for an answer, but truthfully, I thought it was because Two was a place full of idiots who wanted me dead just because I wasn't like them. I thought from their perspective the greatest entertainment would be to see someone who didn't want to volunteer, fight it out in the Arena and get what they deserve.
But, Tarquin's words ring true. I know my sister better than most people, that arrogant, pretty little head of hers, the desire to be a victor. She would never give up for anyone, even if they were the most despicable, vile human being on the planet.
So why... why am I here and not some vicious scumbag who learnt how to hold a sword rather than a rattle?
"I don't know Tarquin." I look down at the plate and fold my hands in my lap. "I really don't know."
"Do you want to know?"
My eyes dart upwards and widen at the smirk playing up his face. Tarquin and smiling don't mix, they don't, both words are complete opposites of one another. But here it is, Mastermind with something happy on that dull face of his.
And it's chilling. It's terrifying.
"You know?"
He shakes his head but the smile doesn't leave him, not for a second. "I don't know. I do know however that I'm the Mastermind. And when you die, or when you leave alive, I will find out for you. Faustine and I raise warriors, we do not raise idiots who would give away their dreams to hurt someone like you."
Someone like me?
What really is that? I'm not sure I even know the answer. If I'm no career, but always will be noted down as a career whether or not I die or live, what really am I?
I thought I knew the answer, but it's never been so far away.
And here is the final list of all alliances and loners. These will be posted on the blog:
The Careers.
Lochlan, Tyndall and Tatum.
Ada, Raelyn and Kitty.
Cynder and Ward.
Celene, Davin and Alton.
Graeden and Raven.
Kennedy, Elijah and Atarah.
Loners: Tirzah, Sloan and Sabrina.
Sorry for the late update, as I said last chapter, stuff got in the way with friends. Shouldn't be too many distractions, these last few Capitol chapters shouldn't take me too long to get through then we're onto the Games!
Poll results are also up, check my profile out. Congrats to Megaera for coming out on top!
Favourite out of these six and why?
Favourite alliance?
Training is now over, up next the tributes meet the Gamemakers!